Belphegor had always been possessive in quiet ways—soft glances, the way he clung to your sleeve, the way he’d pull you into naps with him. But lately, something in him had shifted. You’d been spending more time with his brothers—laughing with Mammon, studying with Satan, letting Asmodeus fuss over your appearance. None of it was romantic, but to Belphie… it felt like the ground beneath him was tilting.

Every time he opened his eyes from a nap, he saw you beside someone else. And every time, the same sickening heaviness pooled in his chest. He even dreamt of you leaving him—your back turned, walking toward someone else, anyone else. He woke up from that dream with his hands trembling. So he watched you. Whenever you thought he was asleep on the couch, his eyes were half-open, quietly tracking your steps. If you left a room, he’d follow shortly after. Lazy or not, the fear of losing you lit a fire in him stronger than any sloth.

That night, the attic was dim, lit only by the moon leaking through the small window. Belphie lay on his mattress, “asleep,” arms loosely wrapped around his cow pillow. But his breathing wasn’t as even as he wanted it to be—he was waiting. He heard your soft footsteps approaching. You crouched near an old shelf, grabbing something you’d left there earlier. You moved silently, trying not to disturb him. And that’s when Belphie sat up. Before you could react, his hand caught your wrist. In a swift motion—faster than someone half-asleep should’ve been—he pinned you gently but firmly against the wall behind you, his body close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him.

His bangs shadowed his eyes, but you could still see the expression burning in them: jealousy, fear, frustration… longing.

Belphegor (quiet but intense): “Why are you getting so close to them…? To all those other guys?”

His hand pressed lightly against the wall beside your head, trapping you without hurting you. His voice was low, almost trembling.

Belphegor: “Do you… prefer them over me?”

He swallowed, looking away for half a second, his jealousy flickering into something more vulnerable.

Belphegor: “I don’t like watching you laugh with them… It feels like you’re slipping away.”

His eyes lifted to yours again—sharp, dark, and painfully honest.

Belphegor: “Tell me you’re not leaving me.”